


Bed Rest

by soongtypeprincess



Series: Married Coppers [12]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Bed Rest, Cute, Cute Ending, Cute Kids, Gay Policemen in the 1970s, Gen, Kid Fic, Short & Sweet, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: Gene has pneumonia and Ruthie makes it her mission to make him feel better.





	Bed Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Another short sickfic! In this one, Ruthie is five.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN THE CANON LIFE ON MARS CHARACTERS!

“Guv, are you alright?” Sam asked as he peeked into Gene's office.

Gene spit into his waste paper basket and set it firmly on the floor. “I’m okay, Gladys,” he muttered, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

“You’ve been coughing all morning,” Sam pointed out.

“Observant as usual, Tyler.”

Sam smirked and returned to his desk, but just as he was about to sit down, he heard Gene let out another heavy cough which led to another round of spitting.

He shot out of his chair and stomped into Gene's office, closing the door behind him. "You're ill," he stated, placing his hands on his hips.

Gene rolled his eyes as his husband walked toward the desk. “God, you love being right, don't you?"

"Go home, love,” Sam ordered, "or you’ll spread it all over the station.” Gene coughed again, a bit longer this time, and Sam noticed his face wincing as he tried to catch his breath. “That sounds horrible. You didn’t have that cough this morning.”

Gene cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Me lungs feel like sandpaper.”

“And you’re spitting up gobs of snot,” Sam said.

“Actually, it’s rainbows and lollipops,” Gene growled at him as he loosened his tie. “I can't go home, Sammy; I’ve got too much paperwork.”

Sam grinned “You know I can do your paperwork much faster anyway."

“I also don’t want Ruthie to catch whatever I've got either.” He coughed again. “I’ll rot in this office before I give her this.”

“Don’t be foolish. You need to rest.” He stepped closer and put the back of his hand against Gene's forehead. “Good Lord, Guv, you’re on fire!”

“Bit warm in here, is all.”

“No, it's a fever.” Sam retrieved his camel coat from the coat rack by the door and handed it to him. “Come on.”

“Where we going?” Gene growled again.

“You need a doctor, Guv."

"And you need a swift kick in the bollocks! You’re not me bloody mother!”

Sam put his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips. “Fine...I just know that you would make _me_ go to the doctor if I sounded like that.”

“Because _you’re_ bloody stubborn.”

Sam huffed. “ _I’m_ stubborn?” He watched as Gene tried to suppress another cough, but was failing. Gene doubled over and leaned his hands on his desk. Sam sighed again. “Think of your daughter.”

Gene clicked his tongue. "Fine..."

\---------------------

Sam and Ruthie arrived home later that evening. “Papa!” she called out as she burst through the front door, letting her backpack fall off her.

“Ruth Anne, I told you,” Sam said, “Papa is resting so you need to be quiet.”

“But, I want to see him,” she whined.

“I know, baby, but he’s ill, isn't he? You might catch what he's got.”

"What's he got?"

"It's just a mild case of pneumonia, but if you caught it, you could still become very sick."

"Well..." She paused and looked up the staircase. "If Papa has it, then that means he  _won't_ get better?"

Sam looked down at her sad face. He grinned as he stroked her cheek. "He _will_ get better, sweetpea, but he needs his rest. Doctor's orders. Now, pick up your backpack, please."

She obeyed and placed it on the settee. “So, we can’t have gummy bears after our tea?”

Sam giggled. “You can have some, but I don’t think Papa would eat them right now.”

“Why not?”

“He’s having a hard time eating solid food. He has to drink lots of water and can only eat soup.”

Ruthie suddenly bounced on her heels. “Oh! Can I make Papa chicken soup, Daddy?”

Sam hanged her coat by the door and opened her backpack, pulling out her drawing pad and crayons. He set them on the dinner table. “Of course, love. He'd like that very much.”

She took opened her drawing pad to a blank page. “I want to make him a thing, too.”

“A thing?" Sam smiled. "What kind of thing? I thought you were making soup.”

“Well, can _you_ make the soup, please, Daddy? I can't reach the cooker."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. Ruthie had a stool she often used to help Sam in the kitchen, but he could see that she now wanted to put all of her concentration on her gift to Gene. "Of course, baby. I'll get that prepared while you work on the other thing for him."

"If we work together," Ruthie said, in a serious voice as she pointed a green crayon at him, "then Papa will be all better in no time."

Sam’s heart swelled with love as he watched her kneel on one of the dining room chairs and lay out her crayons. He went into the kitchen to get the cooker ready.

\---------------

Gene was leaning back against the headboard and flipping through a copy of Autocar. His eyelids drooped and he inhaled, but this caused another wave of coughing. When he was able to catch his breath, he took a sip of the ice water that Sam had left for him.

He had heard them come home and he sighed as he heard Ruthie call out for him. He wanted more than anything to jump out of bed and lift her off her feet, holding her close as he blew raspberries into her cheek.

However, he could barely move without feeling sore and he was afraid that he would lose his balance again if he got out of bed. His face had nearly become acquainted with the door frame of their lavatory when he was coming out of it earlier, but he had made it back to bed in time before the room could spin.

Gene cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck as he tossed aside his magazine and lay on his back. He closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep.

He later awoke to the sound of the bedroom door opening and he opened his eyes to find Sam holding a stoneware mug. Steam was coming out of it and he could smell the salty broth.

He grunted as he sat up again. “Hullo…” he mumbled.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Sam said.

Gene shook his head. “It’s alright, Gladys. I was barely sleeping...and barely breathing.” He watched him set the steaming mug on the nightstand. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Chicken soup,” Sam replied, smiling. “Ruthie's idea.”

This made Gene smile, too. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yep. She's not very happy that you're ill. Oh, and let's not forget.” Sam set four gummy bears beside the mug, making Gene giggle.

“That girl,” he said.

“I know,” Sam agreed, sitting on the far end of the bed, at Gene’s feet. “She wanted very much to come up here and see you.”

Gene breathed in and his chest felt sore. “You should sleep in her bed tonight, Sammy.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want you getting this either.”

Sam nodded. “As you wish, love. Oh, I almost forgot.” He gave him the paper that was in his other hand. “She made a thing for you, as well.”

"A thing, eh?" Gene smiled again as he looked down at his daughter’s drawing. “Oh, hey! It’s a cowboy.”

"I believe it’s _you_ as cowboy, Guv.”

Gene’s smile grew brighter as he giggled, suppressing a cough all the while. “Well, then,” he sighed, “so it is. Yeah, there's me ten gallon hat. Oh, and me lasso! Look, there’s a cactus there, as well. I must be lookin’ for an outlaw.”

He said that with a low drawl that made Sam giggle. “There’s your green horse, too,” Sam added.

“That’s me trusty steed: Clover.”

They shared a laugh and then Sam pointed to a corner of the paper. “Look at this.”

“Aw, bless her,” Gene said, moving his finger over the heart. “And her signature, too. She’s starting to write her name better, yeah?” He took a moment and gazed at the drawing as another small cough escaped him. “My sweet Mouse.”

They heard a soft knock. “Yes, love?” Sam said as Ruthie peeked through the crack of the door.

“Papa?” she said, “Have you had your tea?”

Gene giggled. “Not yet, baby,” he answered. “I will in a bit.”

"Daddy made it," she told him. "You'll feel better."

"I'll eat it before I sleep," he replied. "Cross me heart."

“Okay..." There was a brief pause. “Can I come in, please?”

“No, Mousey-girl. You stay out of this room for a while, alright?”

“But what about my bedtime story?”

Gene glanced at Sam. “Daddy can read to you,” he told her.

“I want _you_ to,” she said, downtrodden.

"You don't want Daddy to read to you?"

"He doesn't do the voices!" Another pause from behind the door. "Sorry, Daddy."

Sam shrugged. "She's right," he said to Gene, "I don't do them like Papa." He turned to the door again. “Ruthie, Papa has to go to sleep soon, and you need to have a bath.”

“Daddy…”

Sam sighed and looked back at Gene, who was now sipping at his chicken soup. He smacked his lips. “Go on, Tyler,” he told him. “Let the sheriff rest.”

Sam stood from the edge of the bed and walked into the corridor, looking down at their daughter. “Bath time.”

Ruthie lightly stamped to her room. “Okay…” she grumbled, passing through her door.

Sam approached the bed again and pressed his fingers against Gene's forehead. “Would you like a cold compress? You’re still quite warm.”

“Daddy?” came Ruthie’s voice down the hallway.

“Go on, Sammy-boy,” Gene said, taking a gulp of his broth. “Go see to her; I can take care of meself.”

Sam stroked his fingers through Gene’s blonde locks before leaving the bedroom.

He peeked into Ruthie’s room. “What is it, love?”

“I have an idea!” she announced, holding one of her books.

\------------------

Sam sat on the floor with Ruthie in his lap. They were sitting in front of the door to the master bedroom, which had been left ajar once more.

Ruthie had one of her Ladybird books and her tiny finger was pointing out each syllable as she carefully read.

“The...police...on his beat...is...al-ways...uh, wil-ling...to help...um, Daddy?" She showed Sam the word on which she stopped.

He pointed at the first syllable. "You know this word, love. Sound it out."

Ruthie licked her lips. "Ch...il...dren...children! And...old...pee---papple?"

"People," Sam corrected her.

"People! Ah-cross...the road." 

Gene lay on his back, listening to her as he grinned.

“Papa, are you sleeping yet?” he heard her ask.

He laughed softly so as not to hurt his sore chest. “Not yet, baby. Keep reading.”

"You have to sleep so you can get better!" she declared.

"Ruthie," Sam said with a giggle, "he'll fall asleep. Keep reading, love."

She cleared her throat and continued, “He will also help papp---people! Who...have...lost their way."


End file.
